A Baltimore Institution Moves On
Last week I was taken aback upon reading Dan Rodricks’ last column in The Baltimore Sun. A fixture at that paper since 1976, I naively assumed he’d always be there. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, really, since Rodricks, 70, is of another (and far more vigorous and fun) era in journalism, and like most once-robust dailies The Sun is a shell of the paper I started reading when I moved to Baltimore in 1973. He didn’t spell out the particulars of the departure—on Facebook, Rodricks hinted at a new venue—but instead thanked all his readers, colleagues and lovable “kooks” of his acquaintance. I can’t remember a more gracious “farewell” column.
Rodricks, a boisterous booster (and critic) of the city he’s lived in for almost 50 years, is, when I think about it, the last journalistic “institution” in Baltimore.
He wrote: “[M]y job as a reporter, then columnist for the bygone Evening Sun—and later the morning Sun—generated close encounters with thousands of generous, brilliant, creative, weird and eccentric people. They made me feel welcome. They taught me a lot about the city and region. I quickly started to feel at home.” Alluding to the deterioration of family-owned newspapers, he continued: “The late Peter Kihss, a reporter for The New York Times, encouraged me to stick with the column; a columnist, he said, can carry a paper through rough times. A priest once told me he saw the column as an urban ministry. I never presumed either as my mission; I just loved the job.”
He did! Amassing over 6600 columns over the decades—in addition to regular TV appearances—made him a star. Until I moved to Manhattan in late-1987, when I habitually picked up The Sun, Rodricks’ column was my first read, and then the sports section, comics and editorial pages. I didn’t always agree with him (and less so, politically, in the 21st century), but his potpourri of topics, sometimes dead-serious, others whimsical, made me think, and there’s no higher accolade for a lifetime journalist.
I interviewed Dan in 2009 for Splice Today and, looking back, the final exchange fascinated me:
Smith: Is there single column you’ve written in the past 30 years that you’re most proud of?
Rodricks: That’s a tough one. There’s a column I wrote a few years ago about a homeless drug addict—a woman—who witnessed the sidewalk execution of a Baltimore police officer. It took every bit of courage she could muster to come into court and tell that story, to look the killer in the eye and know, with her testimony, she could never go back to the old neighborhood. That was courage. That was a simple column, just a description of her, the courtroom scene and the witness’ demeanor and an accounting of her testimony, but very effective. For some reason that one comes to mind—as a columnist I just stepped out of the way and told a heroic story.
I first met Dan in 1979, when he came to City Paper’s Charles Village office and interviewed me about the paper switching to paid circulation (a costly mistake that was rectified less than two years later). He had swagger, sort of like a young and local Jimmy Breslin, and we gabbed for a couple of hours. His Evening Sun column was complimentary about the paper, and it was a big deal for our small staff. In subsequent years, Dan was a semi-regular visitor at the Brass Elephant “salon” that Phyllis Orrick and I organized on Wednesdays, and we’d talk journalism, sports, restaurants and politics. He’s the only person in my long career who called me “Smitty,” an old-fashioned nickname.
In 1986, Dan and I had a long dinner at Zingaro, near the Inner Harbor, and I attempted to poach him from The Sun, offering a significant bump in salary. I told him he’d have his own page every week, a grand showcase, but the next day he called and said no dice, although he was flattered and a real gentleman about it. I was disappointed, but knew it was a long shot and understood his reluctance. I’ve no doubt that Dan received countless offers from daily papers over the years, but he was steadfast in his devotion to Baltimore.
The accompanying photo of Dan and Ken Sokolow (a college friend of mine who wrote for City Paper in its first year and enlivened the Hopkins News-Letter pages when I was editor) was taken by Jim Burger at McGinn’s Bar one St. Patrick’s Day. An ad-hoc group went on a “crawl,” a drink or two at each stop, and, as most of us were still young, there was little recovery time the next day.
Take a look at the clues to figure out the year: Mick Jones is fired from The Clash; Marvin Gaye sings “The Star-Spangled Banner” before the NBA’s All-Star game; Howard Baker is U.S. Senate Majority Leader; The Outsiders is released; William Donald Schaefer wins a fourth term as Mayor of Baltimore; Sally Ride becomes the first female astronaut in space; Tom Brokaw is named lead anchor for NBC Nightly News (I can’t name the station’s current anchor, can you?); Dustin Pedroia is born and Muddy Waters dies; William Kennedy’s Ironweed and Joan Didion’s Salvador are published; and India wins the World Cricket Cup.
—Follow Russ Smith on Twitter: @MUGGER2023